Love And Internal War
by swaggyzebraTW
Summary: Daniel Atlas is at home, fighting his inner demons once again when suddenly he hears the phone ring. Answering it, he discovers that Henley has called him. The two lovebirds meet up later in his apartment after a four horsemen practice. What will happen when the two kiss? Can Henley help Daniel through his mental issues? Rated T for Self Harm and Romance. Daniel/Henley pairing. R


**AN: Okay, I saw the movie a week ago, and since then I have been wishing to write a fic for it. I absolutely loved the film, especially Morgan Freeman. (He's my idol. Love him :)) Anyway, I thought of this crazy idea of Daniel being involved with self harm, and I loved the idea of him/ Henley, so this is the product of those two things. I love Daniel Atlas, so I mean no offense by writing about him harming myself. Do not hate on me about it. I do not mean any harm or offense when I wrote this, and I do not harm myself, so I may get the whole idea of it wrong. I am very sorry in advance. Please review, constructive criticism is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!**

**Dedication: This is dedicated to **_**erik'sgirlforever **_**and **_**ratgirl71**_**. They helped me fix my notifications, and are therefore awesome. They also love **_**Bones **_**just like me, and that makes them even cooler. Thank You.**

**Disclaimer: (Sorry this is the last thing before the story.) I do not own NOW YOU SEE ME or any of the characters mentioned in this story. I am making no money from this. **

The knife blade moved easily across my skin, leaving angry crimson gashes in their wake. Blood tricked out of the lines, smudging along todays pattern of pain and resolution. I felt myself wince slightly at the familiar stinging sensation that the knife elicited, before I collected myself and forced a smile. My smile was not sadistic, nor demonic. It was sad, painful, agonized. Glancing in the mirror briefly, I could see that the corners of my lips were slightly upturned, providing channels for my tears to flow into. I could taste the salt upon my lips, and feel the warm streaks along my dampened cheeks.

My hair was tangled and matted into knots that stuck to the sides of my face due to perspiration and lacrimation. The originally light brown strands were now a darkened brunette, almost black in some places. My eyelashes were blackened, and had large drops of water attached to them. The mere sight of the large droplets made me remember my father, who would have beaten me if he had seen them on my face; claiming that crying was a display of weakness, and real men never showed any signs of weakness. I guess that to him I was no longer a man, though I doubted that he ever did see me as one, nor would he ever.

Turning slightly, I could see the paled scars poking out from behind my ears, the pentagram shaped wounds now healed from time. I could still vividly remember myself putting them there, only a year and a half ago. I had been in a hotel room, not much smaller than my current living arrangement. The reasoning behind me pulling out the scalpel and making opposite pentangles was simple; I had not done it for religious or satanous reasons. No, I had done it for symbolism, trying to heal myself you might say. At the time, I had thought it a good idea to mark behind my ears with alleged healing symbols, in hopes that I would be cured.

From what, you might ask. Even I have little to answer on that. Some might diagnose depression, others extreme insomniac sleep deprivation. Either way, my mind is a pretty messed up place. The things I think would only prove so. My uncanny ability to fool with stage "magic" relies deeply on my condition. Some might say, "that's good. Your mind earns you the money to make it by", but I do not think so. I would kill to have the voices out of my head, to live a normal life. "Magic" is the only thing I can do without becoming insane, or even more then I already am. As a last-ditch effort, I was hoping that the pentagrams would save me from my delusions. They didn't.

My upper teeth nipped at my lower lip as I continued to fabricate the elaborate display across my forearm. The pattern happened to resemble a twisted- yet elegant, 'J', the letter of the joker. The tips of the letter had small spades attached, making the design resemble that of a playing card.

Now having a prompt in mind, I continued on with the painful process of marking myself with deep lacerations that made the shape of a playing card. Along the stem of the letter, I made eyes, and upon the top I made a hat with circular punctures at the end to represent bells. I drew a few more spades off in the distance to finish off the piece. When I was done, I admired my handy-work.

To a normal, sane, and not depressed individual, the scene on my left forearm would be described as lurid. To me, I found it an escape, a temporary key to exit the world, the pain so excruciating that my brain would be forced to silence itself for a few moments. The minutes of silence were well-worth all of the pain and permanent scarring. Well worth it.

I grabbed a nearby towel, and dampened it with water from the rusty sink. I wrung it out a little before brining it to my arm. I gingerly rubbed at the torn flesh, trying to clean the wounds without ruing the patterns. It was only after a few swiped that the towel was stained a prominent red, requiring me to rinse it out and begin again.

My mental absence and physical pain only lasted for thirty more minutes, and after that, the voices and horrors returned. They brought a pounding headache with them; which was probably aided by my loss of blood a well. If I had to guess, I had probably poured two or three quarts of the crimson liquid down the drain during my self harm session. It was no new record by any means. I had done much worse before.

A loud ringing broke me out of my reverie. Surprised, I glanced around the room worriedly before finally discovering that the noise was only my cellphone ringing. I could only assume that it was probably Merritt or Jack calling, probably to inform me of an upcoming practice or meeting. If so, I found myself uninterested. But, if it was Henley, also known as "woman of my dreams", or "best thing that has ever happened to me, even though she is way out of my league", I would love to answer the phone, if only to hear her voice, which was sweet yet hardened soprano.

With her in mind, I found myself racing to the phone, answering it on the fourth and final ring.

"Atlas." I stated blankly into the receiver, hiding my excitement in case it was Merritt or Jack.

"Daniel, hey!" Henley exclaimed happily on the other end of the line.

"Hi, Henley. What's up?" I asked, trying to 'play it cool'.

"Umm. Merritt wanted me to tell you that you are thirty minutes late for practice. He isn't very happy."

When was Merritt ever happy? When killing puppies? "Completely forgot," I began, before correcting myself. "I mean, I'm sick, can't go."

She laughed halfheartedly. "Nice try, big boy. I would get going if I were you, you know how Jack will start whining if you get to skip and he doesn't. And, you also know how angry that makes Merritt."

"Fine, I'll be down there in fifteen." I said sadly, a little more theatrical then necessary.

"See 'ya then." She said, before hanging up the line with a click.

"Damn it." I cursed to myself, suddenly remembering the pain in my arm.

Never had I told the four horsemen that I had mental issues, or that I cut myself frequently. I had always been extra careful to cover up the wounds by wearing long clothing that covered almost all of my skin. I even made sure that my hair was long enough to cover the pentagrams from their line of sight. Whenever we went on vacation, I refused to take my shirt off. I never went swimming in public, never wore short sleeves or shorts. I shook everything off any time that Merritt or Jack dared to ask me about it, refusing to tell them a single detail. To be honest, I usually regretted my cutting after it took place, and I certainly did not want anyone else to see the gashes that mar my pale flesh. I had never trusted anyone with my secret, and I had planned to keep it that way.

I walked to my small bedroom to change into a long sleeved dress shirt, and a pair of pants. Being used to wearing overly dressy clothing, I even put on a tie and some nice polished loafers.

Moving into the bathroom once more, I looked into the cracked mirror. The pentagrams were still visible, so I mussed my hair up a little until they were covered, and put some water in my hair to hold it for a little longer. I splashed some cool water on my cheeks to help bring back some color. To be honest, I still looked like crap, but it was no longer obvious that I had mental problems and was just physically harming myself thirty minutes ago.

Content with how I looked, I waltzed out of my apartment, not even bothering to lock the door before I began sprinting down the stairs to the lobby.

-Line Break-

The practice had turned out to be uneventful. The whole two hours had been spent reviewing and practicing tricks that we had already used and mastered. Merritt had admonished Jack a few times. Merritt had nagged me for a while. Merritt had driven Henley to insanity once or twice. Merritt had profiled everyone for a decent amount of time. And, despite me being the leader of this group, Merritt was being the center of attention today, and he was playing the roll of ringleader. I found it irritating, as I usually found Merritt, only today he was being exceptionally terrible.

I was walking off the stage, towards the exit when I spotted Henley walking my way.

What was she doing? All of the other horsemen had already left...

"Daniel, wait!" She called, still racing my way.

I paused, allowing her to catch up. "Hey, Henley. What's up?"

She caught up, and stopped besides me. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay.." I said, unaware of where this was going.

"Can I come back to your place and talk with you? In private?" She asked, almost nervously.

That's weird. Henley is never nervous about anything. "Sure, what do you want to talk about?"

"You'll see." She said, before silencing herself.

"I guess I will.." I mumbled to myself as we walked out onto the sidewalk, towards my building.

Henley was silent as we walked up four flights of stairs, even refusing to speak as we approached my door. I broke the silence awkwardly as I turned the doorknob.

"Here we are..."

"Do you always leave the door unlocked?" She asked suddenly.

"No."

"Okay."

I pulled the door open and stepped inside, Henley close behind. I was moving to face her, and talk to her when I found myself pressed up against the wall. A surprised gasp escaped my throat at the impact. Within another second, Henley had her lips against mine, in a powerful and passionate kiss. For a second I remained motionless, seemingly paralyzed while she devoured my mouth.

I felt Henley push me harder against the apartment door, and bring her hands to my face; cupping my jaw with her hands. The fingers of her left hand wove themselves into my hair, dragging a moan from my throat. She took the slight gap in my mouth and pushed her tongue through it, meeting my tongue within milliseconds.

I was overcome by a sense of euphoria as she traced the sensitive spots behind my ears, and I forgot about the pentagrams that I had put there. It was only a second later that Henley felt the scars, and yanked away from me so she could discover what they were.

"Daniel, what.." She stammered breathlessly.

I pulled away from her, the moment ruined, ducking under her arm. "What?"

"Where did you get those scars behind your ears?" She asked, still struggling for breath.

"Nowhere." I said as nonchalantly as possible.

"Dan, you can tell me." She said softly, moving her face so she could look into my eyes.

I sighed. "Ask Merritt. He seems to know everything about us..."

"Not this." Henley fired quickly before moving so she was only a foot away from me.

"You're probably right." I admitted softly, hoping she wouldn't hear.

She said nothing to that, making me turn my head in embarrassment. From the corner of my eye, I could make out her slim figure approaching my own. Within a few seconds I could feel her warm breath fanning across my cheek, her eyes trying to gaze into mine. "Daniel." She coaxed softly.

I did not turn my head at first, which made her reach out with tentative hands and cup my face in her palms. Henley turned my face towards her own, which was now only inches away. She brought her lips down upon mine, her kiss soft and contradicting to the previous one. There was no urgency in the connection, only love and sorrow. She felt as if this was her fault.

I pulled away. "Henley, this is not your fault. Don't pity me."

She shook her head. "I should have seen it sooner.."

"What would you have done for me?" I asked sternly, no longer looking at her; my gaze focused on the floor beneath me.

"I would have helped you, Danny."

"No.." I began, but she cut me off.

"I love you!" She bursted suddenly, and I almost expected Henley to cover her mouth.

I was astonished. Never in my whole life would I have pictured her saying that, not even in my dreams. Was I dreaming? No. Henley had just said that she loved me, despite her being way out of my league. Was she telling the truth? Probably not, she was just sad for me. But, even knowing, thinking, that she did not say the truth, it still felt good to hear it come from her mouth. Even if it wasn't true...

"Daniel?" She asked, probably wondering if I had heard her.

"Yeah?" I said, shaking my head as if this was a dream. It could be...

"I said I love you." She said while smiling.

"I love you too." I said softly, before gaining the courage to bring her lips to mine, kissing her as if there was no tomorrow. Maybe there wasn't, but I couldn't bring myself to care. All I cared about was Henley, and she was here with me, now, and hopefully forever. She would help me.

During her being here, I had never once heard the voices within my head. I had never had the urge to hurt myself. It was like she was holding me to the earth, keeping me sane. The euphoria of pleasure had taken over all of the pain in my head, and I couldn't help but feel optimistic for once in my life. Maybe Henley had been the key all along...

AN: There it is, I hope you all enjoyed it. I know, it was cheché in the end, but whatever. Most of these romance fics are. Sorry if you hated it. Thank you if you liked it. Please review. THANK-YOU!


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